


Adesso ridacci la nostra Gioconda!

by Unicrown



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: 2006, E and R acting like kids, Italian!Grantaire, M/M, World Cup, france vs italy, it's basically nosense, les amis love soccer, the characters may be a little ooc, the other Amis are french
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 23:52:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7484817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unicrown/pseuds/Unicrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Grantaire stop talking to each other (and even fighting) after their first date. All of their friends wonder what the hell had happened. It's July, 2006.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adesso ridacci la nostra Gioconda!

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are! This is my first fanfiction here (and first in english, for all that matters). It's kind of nosense, and I'm pretty unsure about it, but I liked the story, so there it is!
> 
> I really want to thank Mariangela for giving me the headcanon! <3

**Adesso ridacci la nostra Gioconda!**

-So… is this really happening?- Bahorel asked. –Enjolras and Grantaire are on a date right now?-  
Courfeyrac nodded solemnly, and so did Combeferre.  
Les Amis (without, of course, Enjolras and Grantaire) were all seated at their usual table, at the Musain. It was not a meeting day, it was more like a “those two idiots finally have a date, so let’s make fun of them a little bit” day.  
Everything was going really well and they spent very little time talking about their two stupidly-in-love friends. Actually, Bahorel and Eponine were discussing which ice cream flavour was the best of the world, while Joly, Bossuet and Courfeyrac were placing bets on who would have won if those two got into a fist fight. Marius was chatting with Cosette and Feuilly was texting his boss for a new timing for his shifts. Everything was normal and calm, until the door opened suddenly, and Enjolras stormed in to the cafè.  
-Enj! We were not expecting you until… well, until tomorrow morning…- said Ferre.  
-Or tomorrow afternoon, hoping to be lucky.- added Courf. Buti it didn’t take long to understand that their blonde leader was disappointed and nervous.  
-Ehi, you ok? How has it gone with the date stuff?- Feuilly asked, cocking his head to the side.  
-What are you all doing here?- answered Enjolras, so obviously trying to avoid the question that it was almost embarassing.  
-Oh gosh, has he done something wrong? What did he said??- immediately, Courf was at his best friend’s side, with a worried look on his face.  
Enjolras’ lips disappeared into a thin, pale line.  
-Nothing. It’s fine.-  
-Obviously it is not!-  
-It is. Courf, please.-  
it was clear that everyone wanted to ask something, to know what had happened. Enjolras noticed, and he just took his bag from where it had fallen and left the cafè.

\- :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: -

  
**From** Jehan  
> R? You ok? (11.15 p.m.)

 **From** Taire  
> yeah (11.50 p.m.)  
> ??? (11.50 p.m.)

 **From** Jehan  
> Enjolras seemed pretty disappointed ?? What happened ?? (11.51 p.m.)

 **From** Taire  
> He didn’t say anything? (00.00 a.m.)

 **From** Jehan  
> no, not really (00.02 p.m.)  
> R??? Explain?? (00.15 a.m.)  
> ok, fair enough, I understand  (01.00 a.m.)  
 

\- :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: -

  
-Hi, Feuilly how was your day?- Enjolras asked, while the redhead was entering in the Musain. He took off his jacket and stood next to Bahorel, smiling.  
-Fine, you know, the usual. Yours?-  
-‘til now, everything’s ok. So, now that we’re all here, we can start today’s meeting: we’ve got to prepare the Rally we are having next Friday. Any ideas?-  
Everyone started talking quietly about what they should do to attract more attention from the local authorities (“no, Courf, we can’t set anything on fire. No, don’t try it, it’s dangerous.” “nice try, Bahorel, but we are not going to cover the ront of the police station in pink”) and they went on until the door opened and Grantaire made his entrance, with a bottle of beer in his right hand and one of wine in the other.   
-Good evening, Apollo, how’s your french patriottism today?- he asked, mockingly. Enjolras glared at him.  
-Far better than your italian pride, Grantaire.- he answered, underlining the fact that the boy was the only non-french member of the Amis de l’Abc.  
-Ok, ok, what’s going on between you two?- asked Jehan, ready to jump between them if they got into a fight.  
-Nothing. Nothing’s going on- Enjolras blushed, then looked away. Grantaire sat in his usual place and the meeting went on. But there was something… something _wrong._  
-They are not fighting- mouthed Eponine. Combeferre nodded, with a concerned look.  
That was it: Enjolras and Grantaire were not fighting at all. The brunette was staring at the blonde, with a hint of amazement in his eyes, and a definitively mocking grin. The other was just ignoring him, and that was… _too strange._  
-The fuck is going on?- murmured Feuilly. Bahorel pouted, staring right towards Grantaire.  
-Guys…?- asked Marius then. All the attention turned to him, and he blushed furiously. –So… no shouting today? No rants? No fighting at all? Are you sure you two are okay?-  
-Yeah.- answered Enjolras, at the same time as Grantiare was saying –Of course.-  
it was so clear that they were not.  
Feuilly cocked his head, staring at Combeferre and Eponine. The first shook his head, seeming pretty confused, while the other one bit her lower lip, pensively.

\- :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: -

  
**To: E/R protection squad**  
Jehan: I tried to talk to Taire, but he wouldn’t say anything at all about all this shit.  
 **To: E/R protection squad**  
Courf: I need to know what’s going on! I don’t know if I have to talk to Enj or beat Taire up!  
 **To: E/R protection squad**  
Ferre: honestly, babe, you would be knocked out after two punches. But nice try, anyway <3  
 **To : E/R protection squad**  
Ep: I’m so done with these two.  
 **To: E/R protection squad**  
Chetta: let’s just talk to them. We don’t need to complicate plans  
 **To: E/R protection squad**  
Courf: so u don’t need my powerpoint ‘bout how useful it is to lock them in a closet?  
 **To: E/R protection squad**  
Jolllly: … creep. But still: let’s talk to them! But not tomorrow  
 **To: E/R protection squad**  
Baho: why not?  
 **To: E/R protection squad**  
Feuilly: y’know, soccer? That thing we have been watching for weeks? Tomorrow night there’s the final match, French and Italy.  
 **To: E/R protection squad**  
Baho: yeah, shit, I forgot ugh. Then it’s settled? We’ll talk to them the day after tomorrow?  
 **To: E/R protection squad**  
Ep: yeah.  
 

\- :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: -

   
The match was crazy. Point after point the hearts of the Amis were racing faster and faster. Marius could not stay seated for more than three seconds, Cosette had bitten all of her nails, while Eponine’s were leaving marks on the wooden table of the cafè Musain. Bahorel and Feuilly were holding hands, catching their breath at every action on tv.  
When Zidane hit Materazzi, cries of protests were heard not only everywhere in the cafè, but also in the nearest bar and all over the block.  
The Amis started shouting, to incite their team to not give up. It was a crazy game, the extra time was over without any team gaining other points other point, in spite of Italians’ superior numbers.  
And then the penalties came.  
 _Pirlo. Materazzi. De Rossi. Del Piero._ Every goal was a shout in unison from the cafe. When Trezeguet failed someone started crying.  
By the end of the game, half of the people who were watching at the Musain were crying, the other half were looking for something really strong to drink.   
The Amis exited from the cafè with long faces, and Bahorel wanted to hide it, but he was crying.  
-Did you FUCKING SEE THAT?? OH YEAH, YOU DID!- Grantaire’s voice was loud, and he was jumping around in excitement. He had been in the club near the Musain, with a group of Italian people, almost as excited as him.  
He walked right in front of Enj and a wide grin appeared on his lips.  
-So, I think you’ve got something for me.-  
-I hate you. I was so fucking right not talking to you. You are cruel. Wicked. You are a monster.- pouted Enjolras. Grantaire’s grin got even wider, and Enjolras reluctantly handed him some cash.  
-That…. Your fight… you…- Courf’s eyes widened. -You were fighting because of the fucking soccer game!!-  
Combeferre couldn’t help but bury his face in his hands.  
- _You. Are. Kids_.- He looked at Enjolras, then at Grantaire. –No, actually, I’m wrong. _You are worse than kids._ -  
 

\- :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: - - :: -

  
-Campioni del mondo!! Siamo campioni del mondo!- shouted Grantaire, while a replay of the final minutes of the game was playing on the italian channel. All the Amis, one week later, were gathered at Grantaire’s place for a movie night. What they did not consider was that his tv was tuned to his favourite italian channel, with that _horrible game_ playing again and again and _again._  
-I don’t know what he said, but if that’s about Italians being the champions, I’m gonna kill him- Bahorel informed.  
Enjolras took a piece of popcorn very slowly, than carefully aimed, and finally threw the popcorn right in Grantaire’s hair.  
-Oooh, someone is offended, aren’t they?-  
-Shut up.-  
The artist’s grin didn’t promise anything good.  
-You know…. Materazzi è caduto/perché ha preso una testata!/La testata gliela ha data/ Zinedin Zinedin Zidane!-  
A collective lament ran through the french people, and Eponine started to throw popcorn at Grantaire.  
-Ma lui poi s’è vendicato/per quel gesto disgraziato/una rete ha segnato/E VINCIAMO NOI IL MONDIAL!-  
The only one between the Amis who knew Italian –with the exception of Grantaire- was Jehan, but by that time everyone had learned what those words were: “and we won the World Cup!” or something like that.  
-Taire, shut the fuck up!- Enjolras seemed pretty pissed off, but the artist didn’t give up.  
-Make me! … Adesso ridacci la nostra Gioconda, perché siamo noi i campioni del mondo!!-  
Enjolras grabbed him by the front of his shirt and drew him closer, until their lips met, right there, in the middle of the room.  
Grantaire was suddenly silent. His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.  
-So, now you are silent.- said Enjolras. The corner of his lips twitched, just before he broke into a mischievous grin.  
-… well, fair enough.- Grantaire said, before dragging him into another kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> italian parts translated in english (or sort of. They don't rhyme, I'm sorry):  
> "Materazzi fell down/because he got hit/He got hit by/Zinedin Zinedin Zidane/But then he got his revenge/for that unfair gesture/he made a goal/and we win the world cup!" and then "Now give us back our Mona Lisa".  
> This is a trash song we used to sing a lot after the end of the World Cup. If you want to listen to it and laugh, here it is: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-b-9m3sw4Dg
> 
> So well, it was kind of bullshit (the fanfiction) but I enjoyed writing it, I hope it made you smile, at least!


End file.
